Fictionista WitFit Challenge
by Rosette-Cullen
Summary: Fictionista daily word prompt challenge, one month, one prompt, one day to create and imagine without editing. K-M, but be warned for graphic scenes.
1. Lucky Break

**A/N: I'm participating in Fictionista WitFit for the month of December. It's a daily word prompt or picture and you write something, drabble, one-shot, whatever you want. It's perfect for relaxing after a rough day or just expanding on your writing expertise.**

**You can look up Fictionista on Twitter and get all kinds of information. You can still sign up, so go for it!**

**Prompt: Lucky Break  
Rating: T  
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, all characters belong to their respective owners.**

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Three months after manila envelopes, stamps, essays, goldenrods, nail biting, the excruciating slip of paper against my fingers and the clacking as it landed into the metal of my mailbox—the results came.

It started right after Christmas. Brochures for Northern, Southern, Eastern and Western came from all around the area. Charlie tried to convince me to go close to home; an education was just as good from down the road—three miles from my old high school.

The point of growing up was to get away from the confinements of childhood. In order to grow older you need not only physically evolve, but to have that mental fear come with you, follow you around like a dark shadow in the corridors of your mind. I believed that with all my heart and never once doubted that fear forced children to grow up faster. I'd had a good dose of it in my lifetime.

Two days after Christmas, clad in my flannel polka dot pajamas, I tiptoed through the ankle high snow for the mail. The metal stuck to my fingers when I pulled it open and hissing, I picked out the pieces of mail.

A small white envelope was at the top, the letter told me that my application was reviewed; I was a valued member of society and that by setting my goals for college I was making a better life for myself.

Two more similar letters came before the New Year, with each finely printed, mechanical decline of my education I grew more and more hopeless.

"Don't worry," Edward had said. "Good things come with time."

I'd gotten acceptances from the only schools that mattered. Everything close by was all that was important.

So by the time February came around and Edward had gotten all of his acceptance packets, I was more than a little downtrodden. Of course I was happy for him, but then again my jealousy and anger towards his century of knowledge and ease of getting into any college he wanted.

I absolutely refused to allow Edward to assist me with getting into college. I denied his money, threatening decade long grudges, revenge of the worst magnitude and when I was sure none of that affected him, cried my eyes out.

It was an uneventful Wednesday afternoon, snow was coming down lightly making the windows frost. I drew pictures on the front door while waiting for Edward to come and pick me up. I was looking forward to getting out of the house after being stuck inside for two days.

While wrapped my scarf comfortably around my shoulders I heard the motor of an engine and perked up. Instead of the sleek silver I expected to round the corner, a white vehicle from the post office stopped in front of my house.

Charlie had fallen asleep on the couch, remote balanced on his belly that was peeking out at the bottom of his white shirt. I pursed my lips and pulled my scarf over my nose and mouth.

Briskly running to the mailbox I waved off the postal worker. There were pieces of junk mail, some magazines for Charlie, a letter from my mother—a purple envelope with a sparkly stamp—and, oh!

In the back, crammed behind a thick box from the bookstore was a white envelope.

My excitement for my book was overshadowed by my curiosity for the envelope. It was addressed to Isabella M. Swan, and when I flicked my nail under the seam and gasped. My name was on a different piece of paper followed by 'congratulations' and 'we're happy to have you as a part of our community' but my eyes had glazed over in tears.

"Bella?"

I whipped around, shoving the paper in Edward's face, tears of joy streaming down my face. He eyed my face, then the paper before grinning back.

He stepped forward as I threw my arms around his neck, laughing together.

"I did it," I whispered.

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**A/N: I won't be updating every day. Things are crazy some times and I try to fit in writing whever I can.**


	2. Elementary

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s): M (Sexually Explicit)**

**Notes: The rain is tapping against my glass, so the spin off has to do with my insatiable want to go out into it. Too cold, though.**

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: Elementary**

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We were waiting at the end of our new home's driveway, peering down the road with anxiety, nervousness and expectancy. Since moving for the third time I found that I enjoyed the area much more than any of the other homes—including the one in Forks.

There were acres of land covered by thousands of trees making hunting within our own backyard easy. That was important because Edward and I simply could not leave to hunt big game anymore. Not with a child in the house that needed constant attention.

We'd moved away after Renesmee's second birthday. Emmett and Rosalie had gone to Europe for another honeymoon, and Alice and Jasper lived with Carlisle and Esme in the area. We were only a mile or two apart, but the separate houses stood as a symbol. Edward and I had created our own little family, one that we both loved with all our hearts.

Though she looked to be an elementary school student, Renesmee was in fact only four. She was confident in her own skin. She knew exactly what we were—two vampires taking care of our half-breed child. And she knew that Jacob was a werewolf who constantly pined over her. Though it took some rehashing and constant bickering it was decided that they couldn't pick up a relationship until high school.

"Are you sure?" Edward asked for the millionth time.

Renesmee rolled her eyes. "Yes, dad."

"She'll be fine," I said, patting my daughter's curls. They were the same shade as her father's and had the smooth texture of my own. I found myself fascinated by her, that she could be an equal representative of both Edward and I.

"We could still do homeschooling. You'll learn more from me than any teacher," he grumbled.

"But my social skills will be impaired. How am I supposed to live as a human when I can't interact or function with them?" Eloquent as always, she explained.

Edward's expression didn't soften; instead he swung her arm back and forth with his hand. She smiled slightly, rocking both of our hands with her small ones. Moments like these made all the hardships worth it and more.

The rattling sound of an engine climbed the obscure road and a yellow behemoth rounded the corner. Edward grimaced while I found comfort in the sound. It reminded me vaguely of Charlie, who was still in Forks living with Sue Clearwater. The fact that I was stepsisters with a werewolf didn't bother me as much as it should have.

"We should have driven," Edward muttered, glaring at the yellow bus.

It pulled up in front of the driveway, little faces looking out through the dirty glass windows. When Renesmee pulled away and daintily stepped onto the bus, she turned and waved before disappearing into the monster.

As it pulled away I turned to Edward. "This is the _only_ time we're doing this."

He grinned, grabbing onto my hand. We took off in a sprint back to the house, stepping into his car. He'd traded the Volvo for something more roomy and family appropriate. It was just a sports car with four doors.

"Don't be so negative," he teased. "High school we'll be doing it, too. Though, we'll be students."

I outright scoffed. High school wasn't so much fun the first time around, what would possibly make me want to repeat it? Edward looked over to me, instantly knowing what was floating through my mind and licked his lips. Oh, that's why.

He peeled out of the driveway and down the road, going slowly as to not catch up to the bus. Now that I had a penchant for speed I understood why he drove so fast. Slow was boring, no excitement, the vibrations of leather and the thrum of the engine made everything more surreal.

By the time we got to Renesmee's school the busses were leaving and classes were starting up. Sly as we were, picking up her scent and finding the room she was in couldn't have been simpler.

"Math," Edward said, creeping under a window.

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew."

He chuckled and braced his hands on the windowsill, looking in with narrowed eyes. Instantly he caught her and smiled. I peeked up, finding her toward the back corner with a contemplative expression on her cherubic face. Boys were already looking at her, pink cheeks lighting up as they glanced in her direction.

"They all want one thing," Edward hissed.

"They're nine-year-olds. They just want to eat lunch with her and hold hands."

"Right," he scoffed. "Ignore the mind reader."

I ducked back under, crouching beside the window and at eyelevel with Edward's chest, who was still peering inside.

"Can we go? She's obviously fine. I think if anything was going to happen it would have by now. She's a strong girl."

Thunder rumbled over head and we both looked up. There was a tense moment when every cell ignited and pled to be released but was gone a moment later. Something about thunderstorms and vampires was… incredible.

Edward's eyes shifted from the pane of glass to where I sat crouched on the ground, not willing to ruin my new white skirt with mud. I looked up with doe eyes, the kind that he couldn't resist and Edward hesitated, torn between the overprotective father and doting husband.

"How about we come back around lunch?" I reasoned.

He nodded his head vigorously, moving away from the window silently. We latched onto each other's hands, forgetting the car completely and running into the surrounding forest. A bolt of lightning struck through the sky. Edward tugged me harder, pulling me deep into the dense trees.

A laugh bubbled up, escaping on a hiss of air. He stopped, turned around, and pressed me up against a tree. The rain came down in a torrent, barely allowing any view of the area around us. I was happy for it, almost a cover while being so open and exposed.

Edward's lips met mine, kissing with enough force to bruise. Our teeth clanged together, venom mixing and hissing as it did. It was a beautiful smell, one so deadly to any living being and yet made for exquisite oral sex.

I laughed again, throwing my head back and welcoming the rain. There were lips and teeth on my throat, growls coming from my chest that couldn't be contained. The pleasure of Edward, the rain, the lightning and the thunder struck me all over. My bones rattled and my hands pulled my skirt up, offering complete control to my husband.

"Bella," he breathed.

"I want you… in," I breathed.

The rainfall stuttered and Edward didn't hesitate to comply. Clothes were shifted, some torn, but it was all for the greater good. I dug my fingers into the base of the tree, my legs wrapping around his waist and—oh!

"Edward…"

Thunder rumbled the air; tension crackled, broke down through the sky and obliterated every thought beside this man's skin connecting to mine. How could things have changed so suddenly?

The fall wavered, the sheets of rain staggering as Edward pumped harder, our lips never stopped connecting. It had been too long… having a child in the house with sensitive ears made it hard to be together when our instincts demanded it.

"Too long," he muttered. "Never again."

My heels pressed into his lower back giving him all the confirmation I could possibly show. My orgasm came up quickly as I pulled him closer, pelvis pressing mine, making a grating noise that sliced through the rain.

I cried into the heavens with my eyes snapping closed, gently massaged by the rain. And Edward stilled against me, a few frantic thrusts and then the most rewarding feeling of his cum shooting into me. The mixing of our fluids brought on an almost lethargic reaction.

My fingers recoiled from the tree, falling limply onto his shoulders. Edward held me up, breathing unnecessarily raspy in my ear. The rain still came down, bounding off our skin and pivoting in different directions.

"Quickie in the woods," I laughed breathlessly.

"It's only the beginning," he murmured, voice thick. "Let's go."

"What about Renesmee?" I asked. As much as I wanted a repeat back at the house, preferably dry and in bed, I didn't want him to regret not checking on his daughter.

That worry seemed to disappear as he tugged me back into a sprint. "She'll be fine. Strong little girl, remember?"

I pursed my lips saying nothing and soon enough we'd once again forgotten the car and were racing home through backroads.


	3. White

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s): T**

**Notes: My favorite color is white and the first snowfall happened today. All the lawns and covered and there is no prettier sight than winter snow. :)**

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: White**

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"Alice," I murmured.

"Hmm?" she mumbled and flipped the pages of a magazine. A stack was beside the couch, a pile of torn pages littered the surrounding area. A tortured model with ripped clothes and faux fur stared at me and I crushed her with the toe of my shoe.

A collection of business dresses lined an easel. For Alice this was art, no amount of paint could bring to life the creations she made. Thumbtacks held corners of pages and some cut out pants and shirts were paired together. I found myself amazed at the collection of fabric that seemingly lined every surface.

In the far corner a strapless blue dress that easily flowed at the knees was wrapped around a mannequin. The waist was narrow, hips slightly larger and the bodice fit to perfection for the girl it was designed for.

"When will she wear it?" I breathed.

Alice gnawed gently on the eraser to her pencil, venom sizzling and cracking over the weak rubber. She pulled it from her mouth, glared at it and pulled another out from the box at her feet.

"Whenever you want her to," she answered vaguely. "Snow Ball is coming up for school. If you're feeling sickly cliché you could ask her."

"I will." A tentative smile grew on my lips. "Will it snow through the night?"

She nodded her head. "Five to six inches all in one sitting. If you want to make any grand gestures the night of the solstice will be perfect."

I gulped. "You haven't… looked?"

Finally raising her eyes to mine, they looked earnest in their wide depths. Alice was a strange little thing. At some moments I understood her better than anyone and in other instances I was left gaping in confusion.

"I'd like to be surprised. You're a big boy now; you don't need little old me to teach you how to impress your girlfriend."

"You sound like Rosalie." I snorted.

At that she grinned. "I believe Rosalie would be telling you to go ice skating on the ocean, were she in my place."

She stood up, pinning a sketch next to different variations of skirts and tops. Alice had managed to combine each piece into her sketch, pulling the best qualities out and creating a masterpiece that had taken a week.

Alice pursed her lips. "I'm thinking Esme."

"She can wear it to Carlisle's Christmas party at the hospital."

"Edward," she sighed. "Sometime you're a genius."

I bowed at the waist and she curtsied, giggling all the while. Turning on my heel, I left her room and walked to my own, picking up scarves, gloves and other things I'd need.

I'd been around snow all my life, I found it to be apart of me. My skin was cold, if not colder, we blended together, and at times it provided warmth. Living crystallized water molecules dancing from the sky and surviving on my flesh.

Emmett held up a game controller on my way down, Jasper was beside him, half focused on the game that his thumbs controlled and half on Rosalie decorating the Christmas tree in the corner. She had smashed several ornaments for not glistening in that special way or vaulting them whenever one of the boys would make a comment. Jasper was thinking about saying something, remarking how the tree was off balance.

"We should get a back up one," Emmett said. "Just for good measure."

"Good measure?" Rosalie hissed. "It took Esme and I six months to find the perfect tree and you two are ruining the Goddamn glory."

"Taking the lord's name on Christmas?" I clucked my tongue.

She seethed. Carlisle came out from the kitchen; he had an argyle sweater on, the one I gave him last year. It was one of the few gifts I'd put thought into. What did you give to the beings who had it all? A soul would have nice, but they didn't come gift wrapped.

"You should listen to Edward, Rosalie," he admonished. "It's the holidays… let's see if we can go an extended period of time without arguing."

She rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored him. All she wanted to do was finish the tree and show Esme when she got home. I'd noticed with increasing awareness that Rosalie had finally taken Esme in as her adoptive mother. It had been nearly five decades and the bond was starting to strengthen between the two.

Jasper looked up, bending his neck over the couch and looking at me upside down. His near shoulder length hair flipped down as well. "Bella?" he asked. "I can feel your anxiousness."

I nodded and a silence passed through the room that only the little human could bring. Carlisle's chest puffed with pride, a silent grin snaking up onto his features. Rosalie grumbled something foul, muttering how she hoped I didn't expect her to exchange gifts.

Instead of lingering I quickly strode to the door, reveling in the gust of wind that smacked me in the face and chest. The stale air from the house that was scented with cinnamon and pine left and instead I smelled crisp night air and sweet scented snow. Oh, how I loved the winter time.

My car heated by the time I got onto the road. The vents were poised on the passenger's seat, waiting for its lovely visitor to come and grace it with her small body.

Winding roads and scarce deer were all that greeted me for a short while, soon followed by green lights that I flew by and yellow streetlights that waved me goodbye with distant shadows. The local pub was open, hardworking men drowned their sorrows in a glass, regaling each other with stories and tales from a better time. I wondered what it must be like to live your life in one place, never leaving and then holding resentment for something that kept you back.

Every three to four years I'd had to move to avoid being found out. I enjoyed traveling, and Carlisle always found places where our hunting range was wide and the people were kind. I couldn't have asked for a better traveling companion.

By the time I pulled up to Bella's driveway she was waiting on the porch, shoulders shivering from the cold in a thin jacket, but the grin on her face seemed to warm her. I slipped from my car, leaving it on and met her in a running embrace. She collided into my chest, warm breath releasing as she let out a quiet laugh.

"You're punctual," she said breathlessly.

I chose not to set her on her feet, instead I hoisted her higher in my arms, kissing each rosy cheek and then her nose. She flushed even brighter, eyelashes touching her cheeks in shyness.

"Aren't I always?" I whispered, pressing my lips gently to hers.

In place of a comeback or answer she lifted her lips, kissing the skin of my face, cheeks, nose, forehead, jaw, her warm, plump mouth warmed me until I felt as though I were flushing as brightly as she.

The curtains in the living room moved a bit, a half-masked face coming into view. I set Bella down; pecking her lips once more before the front door opened and Charlie came onto the porch.

He had a flannel shirt on, some old jeans and metal toed snow boots. He appeared with the ruse of shoveling snow to break us out of our intimate moment.

"Hey, Edward," he said a bit tightly.

"Chief Swan." I nodded my head in respect. "Do you need help with shoveling out the drive?"

He scowled a bit, his masculinity coming forward at my attempt to assist him. _I don't need some kid's help. Always with the damn offers._

He smiled, tight lipped. "Nah, I can do it on my own. Doesn't look like it'll snow anymore."

I pursed my lips. The weather forecasters had nothing on Alice. Bella stuffed her hands into her pockets, warily eyeing her father. She knew how defensive he was, how he was prone to let insults slip up for the sake of his only daughter. I had profound respect for Charlie. His devotion to his small family was astounding and his love for Bella made me feels as though I was the bad guy on more than one occasion.

"We were going to go out for a while," Bella said quietly, eyes peering up at me. "Is that okay, dad?"

Charlie's mind screamed no. I was taking away his little girl during the holidays, drawing her further and further away from the child who would sit on his knee while he dressed up as Santa. A young version of Bella swirled before my eyes, dimples and round cheeks, flushed with excitement. She clapped, a stuffed animal stuck in her sticky palms. I found myself smiling and Charlie snapped out of his daydream, looking at me with disdain.

"Is that alright, sir?" I murmured.

"Yeah, just have her home by eleven." He waved us off dismissively, eyes fixed on the way Bella's expression lit up at her extended curfew.

_Whatever makes her happy,_ he thought.

Bella and I got into the car, heat immediately consuming the blistering chill from outside. She shivered, jaw chattering from the abrupt change in temperature. Charlie waved us off, one hand gripping the wooden handle to the shovel.

Bella sighed. "Sorry."

I shrugged her worry off, understanding her need to apologize for her father. I couldn't accept an apology, not after watching the memories flicker through Charlie Swan's head. Grinning Bella with her front teeth missing and long brown hair in pigtails was stuck in my head.

She looked up at me curiously. "What?"

"You were an adorable child," I said on a sigh. She gasped, hand fluttering to her throat and embarrassment on her face. I grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers. "Don't. Don't be shy, I envy those memories. What I wouldn't give to have been able to know you as a child."

"Where are we going?" she changed the subject.

"It's snowing," I nearly whispered, smiling.

Bella looked up through the windshield, eyebrows coming together as she peered up at the heavens. Slowly, so slowly it seemed almost magical, the clouds came together and the first few flakes fell to the earth. She gasped, a smile lighting her features.

"We're not supposed to get any until next week," she sighed.

I turned off onto the long narrow path I'd been down a million times before. Bella sat back in her seat as she saw the shift of trees and gravel on the pathway stretched before us. Our fingers intertwined, her warm ones heated me to my very core. A shiver worked its way over my flesh, carving brail words that I couldn't force from my tongue.

I stopped along the edge of the forest path, turning off the car and getting out to open Bella's side. I presented her with the cashmere scarf, receiving a wary look as she took it and wrapped it around her neck. The smooth white contrasted against the pale expanse of her throat.

She took the gloves grudgingly and my leather jacket. The flimsy excuse of a parka left her shivering and pale under the full moon. I shook my head, saying nothing but crouching down for her to get on my back. Bella wrapped her arms around my neck, face buried in my hair, and then I was off. In the blink of an eye were in the middle of our meadow.

The snow fell at a slow, fluttering pace. The luminescent glow of the moon gave a serene setting, beautiful in all its glory and hovering like a deity.

Bella slid down my back and landed on her feet. She looked up at the moon, a falling piece of snow landed on her nose, melting quickly and gliding down. I sucked in a sharp breath.

She sat on the ground and fell onto her back, arms spread as if she were caught in a photograph making a snow angel.

I sat beside her, lying back and resting my head gently on her shoulder. We looked at the sky and the snow falling around us. Bella dragged her fingers through my air, forcing my eyes to close in pure bliss.

If there was ever a moment where I felt the reserve of peaceful sleep, it would have been then.


	4. Alabaster

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s): M**

**Notes: I'm a sucker for love-me-gentle.**

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: Alabaster**

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In the beginning I was scared.

On the Isle I liked the cover of night stretching over my flesh and hiding the imperfections. Scarred knees and knobby elbow, the little scabs from one brush with danger to another. Edward kissed every inch, laving his tongue over freckles, dimples and each of my ribs.

In the dark everything seemed okay. The only monster was Edward, everything else was too afraid to broach the security of being in our moment.

I felt the texture of his skin, so smooth and hard. Between my enflamed thighs he felt like heaven, his chest on mine was unspeakable. My tongue spoke nothing but his name and affirmative commands, his lips spoke the same, breathlessly whispered in my ear. There were fingers everywhere, thick air choked me but Edward's cool breath in my mouth forced oxygen down.

After those long nights with our tangled bodies, wet sounds and quiet cries of relief I found myself on edge. There was a precipice; Edward's presence drove me to begging.

Maybe those nights of safety left my inhibition at the door, but in the daylight, on the beach, with his skin glistening in its alabaster glory, I found that the day was just as safe.


	5. Open Letter

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Creative Original**

**Rating/Warning(s): K+**

**Notes: Just to blow off some steam.**

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: ****Write an open letter to someone you haven't spoken to or contacted in at least a year.

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Dear, You,

I'd like You to know that I've grown up and moved on. Without the friendship that You distilled in my younger days I might not be the same person I am now. When we were kids, playing around on the playground and dancing in our suede black heels—the kind you could only receive after years of diligently wearing ugly black-and-white saddle shoes—and I'd fall and start crying You'd pick me up.

I was never the dancer, but You were. We'd go to ballet in kindergarten and tap in first grade. I remember dancing on the blacktop and doing a tango that other people laughed at. I remember when we said we'd just have to grow up and go to the same college, living as neighbors when we eventually got married. I remember lying to You to make everything in the world seem grand.

There was a time when I honestly believed that eight years together was enough to create a bond.

But we both grew up and moved on. You went one way, cocky and confident, and I went another, scared and resentful.

Truth is, I'm glad You don't know me now. I'm a bit ashamed of the person I've become and I can't wait to blow this out and set the smoke in the past. I want to wash it all out with antiseptic and Lysol cleaner and burn the remains. I've done things I'm not proud of, things that have embarrassed me and more than that, things I wish I could have had the courage to do.

You learn things when you're on your own without the assistance of friends. And I truly believe that without You I opened up as my own person and soaked up every one of the people around me. I am a sponge, an amoeba, and I have no will of my own other than cleanly written words and script of my flesh.

So I'm glad that we split, because ultimately I left the door open—though I do have my faults—and You chose to not only close that door but lock it as well. Maybe one day when I can stand up and say that I have never been influenced by anyone but myself and not crack a smile I'll find You. In a crowd I see myself avoiding You and I'm proud.

You were my best friend, and a damn good one, but children grow up and fill out and I've become something I'm happy with. I don't need Your judgment and I don't need the complete happiness of the past to override everything I've worked towards.

Sincerely yours, Rosette M.


	6. I could hear the muffled sounds of…

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Creative Original**

**Rating/Warning(s): T**

**Notes: I wanted to update this earlier, but on my way to the Log In button I got distracted and started a new story.**

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: "I could hear the muffled sounds of…"****

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One day it was a faint scratching that came through my walls.

The next it was louder, more defined and definitely part of my imagination as I was prone to believe.

And the day after, I heard the distinct notes of harmony piercing through my drywall.

I found myself lying awake at night listening to the sounds of my neighbor's piano. I'd never met him before, only taken glimpses at his mail in hopes of finding that we had a common interest in _Home Gardening._ The one time I peeped there a lone, solitary white envelope—a paycheck—was sitting in there. I assessed from then on that he was, in fact, a male.

The scary thing was that I'd lived in Maybrook Complex for two months and had yet to see any sign that he was alive. Every other neighbor went out of their way to welcome me to the hall.

All but Edward A. Cullen of 56 Maybrook road.

I'd come to imagine him as a Baron. He sat in his apartment—maybe stood and walked around a bit—and played at his piano all day. Most tunes were melancholy and I'd noticed that he seemed to leave early in the morning, around one or two and left for what must have been work.

My best friend, Alice, would be proud of my detective skills.

His talent was amazing, and though some of the other tenants complained about this incessant piano man, I found myself eagerly awaiting his notes.

After a particularly rough day at work I'd been on the verge of tears until his chords seeped through the wall. They hadn't assisted my tears with their sad tones; instead it started off sad and lifted into something upbeat and happy.

From that day forward I determined that it didn't matter if the guy was a homebody or a creepy pervert who only went out at night, or a Baron who had a mistress locked up in his attic.

I baked a fresh batch of cookies after work on an uneventful Wednesday when I heard the first keys. It was high pitched, sad and slow.

Making the decision, I grabbed a china plate and piled on the warm, gooey chocolate cookies. What better peace offering than baked goods?

I left my apartment and stood in front of his door, fire blazing in my belly. And then I slammed my fist against the wood before I could chicken out and run away. The playing stopped and not ten seconds later the door swung open, scaring the bejesus out of me.

Well, now I knew two new things about Edward Cullen. He needed to sleep more and he was a pretty boy.

"Um… hi," I squeaked. "I—we haven't met but I hear you playing all the time so I feel like I know you. I made you cookies."

He reached out a hand, green eyes looking at me incredulously. I suddenly felt like I was committing some kind of a crime. The way he peered down at me, it was like he expected me to pull the plate away and smash it against his door.

I shoved it toward him before I smashed it in _my_ face.

He took it tentatively, looking down. His stomach growled loudly and he looked completely embarrassed.

"Not to brag," I said, trying to break the tension. "But I bake pretty amazing cookies. All from scratch, too."

He nodded and—and smiled at me. Well now. Straight white teeth and full lips grinned down at me appreciatively and I smiled back, bolting for my door before I made more of fool of myself.

My back pressed to my apartment door, cheeks burning and heart fluttering.

Through the wall I could hear the muffled sounds of quiet chuckling. I smiled to myself, already thinking of my mother's number for brownies.


	7. Inadequate

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s): M**

**Notes: This is a continuation from the last one "I could hear the muffled sounds of…" just a little sort something because I enjoyed writing it. **

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: Inadequate****

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Since introducing myself to my neighbor—a man who was more-or-less a recluse—and shoving a batch of cookies into his hands, I'd taken to baking. I made brownies, cupcakes, sugar cookies, chocolate chip cookies and every other kind under the sun. Before I knew it I was standing in front of my full length mirror pinching excess fat on my hips.

I decided right away that I'd need to stop eating and just send them to people I knew. People at work would devour sweets as soon as I left them vulnerable in the break room.

The thin walls were something to complain about, of course. When I'd first moved in I detested the sounds of the upstairs tenants squeaking away throughout the night. Some of us had to sleep. The jealousy I felt now, lying away beneath two enthusiastic—maybe more—lovers, made my thoughts flitteredto something else.

Towards the headboard of my bed I heard a bang, making me jerk upright. I had assessed that Edward's room was where mine was, his bed most likely pressed against the same wall. The one time he'd invited me into his apartment I found the same layout.

The thought of him lying in bed as I was made my skin break out into gooseflesh. Being the nosy neighbor that I was, I sat up and pressed my ear to the wall. Mr. Mysterious had stopped playing his piano which meant he was taking a nap before he left for work.

Only, people don't grunt when taking a nap.

I gasped, rearing backward and stared at the wall incredulously. Piano be damned, this was much more interesting. My ear smashed to the wall again. His breathing was so hard I could hear it loud and clear, as if he were beside me. The heating vents blew up a gust of warm air, I closed my eyes, imagining Edward's breath on my neck.

"Jesus," he moaned.

I popped an eye opening, staring at the wall with some kind of intrigue. It was like I hoped it would just open up and I'd find him with John Thursday shaking his hand. I leaned my forehead against the wall, my fingers gripping at my headboard.

I swallowed hard, my left hand sneaking down my stomach and under the drawstring of my sleep pants. I hadn't masturbated in weeks, hadn't been with a man in months. Why not use the sounds of my neighbor as my own personal pornography.

My fingers slipped under my panties, pausing at the smooth skin hiding a slick fountain. _To hell with it_, I thought.

His breathing picked up, quiet groans slipping through the drywall. I could have asked for my deposit back, bargained for some kind of price cut for the thinness of my apartment walls, but somehow I didn't care about that.

My index finger slipped down, making contact with warm liquid, slipping through folds to my clit which sat patiently, sparking my body at first contact. I sucked in a sharp breath, listening closely to my neighbor. I was intruding on his privacy; I just couldn't find the decency to care, though.

"Un, yeah," he cried.

"Better than a porno," I mumbled. I bit my lip to keep from saying more, begging my unseen masturbator to make louder noises, tell me what he was doing, open his damn door and come in here like some super hero and show me himself.

I slid a finger inside myself, breathing out shakily and leaning back on my knees. The further away I leaned, the quieter Edward's sounds became. Frustrated, I pulled my hand from my pants and leaned my back against the wall. His voice was in my ear again, erotic in every breathy moan.

My legs spread, frantically kicking down my pants and underwear. Soon enough there was nothing between sweet relief and my fingers. I knew by the quick rasps of his voice that Edward was close. He began to curse quietly, moan loudly and the scraping of his bed was rocking the wall.

I focused solely on my clit, spreading moisture and rubbing with three fingers. Oh God, so good. I could see him in my head. Those dark circles under his eyes would be exacerbated by the erotic gleam that all men had the closer to climax they were. I could so the tendons in his neck stretching, white teeth gleaming, hand rocketing back and forth over his hard, oiled, completely erect cock.

My own personal porno played out. He was doused in candle light, naked and oiled like some muscle man in competition. I would have laughed at myself had the tightening in my stomach not been so strong.

His voice suddenly grew loud, six strong and long moans propelled from the drywall and through my nerves, a quiet cry belted from my chest before I could stop it. I whimpered over and over as my orgasm stilled my body and made my legs shake.

I quickly realized my mistake and covered my mouth, listening as Edward made no noise to indicate that he was even in the room anymore. My eyes snapped closed and the impact of what I'd just done sent my post-orgasm lightheartedness into the ground.

I had half a mind to shout 'sorry' through the wall, or 'was it as good for you as it was for me?' but I pulled my blanket up to my shoulders, clicked out the light and closed my eyes. My embarrassment pushed me into sleep faster than I thought possible.

--

I basically holed myself up in my apartment for the remainder of the week. I went to work in the morning when Edward was still out just so I wouldn't have to face him, and if I needed to go grocery shopping I did it at two in the morning.

I become no better than one of the crazy insomniacs who bought pudding mix and straws, or the pregnant woman and their husbands getting gallon sized pickles and economy sized tubs of ice cream.

As it was, Thursday night—or Friday morning—I'd found myself out of toilet paper and desperately raced to the store. I refused to use paper towels, I respected my private parts too much to do that, and therefore I was walking on icy roads at three in the morning. I had the day off from work, finishing my assignment well before the Saturday deadline and I figured I could spare myself the luxury.

As I neared the small convenience store I picked up my pace, desperately needing to use the bathroom. My ratty bunny slippers had me skating over ice patches, but light poles kept me upright, that is, until I ran out of them and landed on my tailbone right outside the sliding doors. I managed to whack my head on the ground as well. Stars were in my vision, and then a bearded face was above me, chubby fingers pried my eyes open.

"Ma'am?" he asked.

"It's Miss," I said indignantly.

A woman kneeled beside me, cold, clammy hands touched my face as she swooped down and looked like she was about to kiss me. I reared back, slamming my head back into the ground. Great start to my day off.

"You need a hospital," she declared. She looked up at the Santa Clause imitator. "Can you carry her?"

"I'll throw up everywhere," I said, sitting up. My vision was blurry and my neck and head pounded with the rush of blood.

The guy didn't listen to me as he cradled me to his chest, walking shakily to the clinic a few blocks away. The woman trailed behind, almost floating as she walked. Her colorful dress, jean jacket, white stockings and brown, scuffed shoes kind of comforted me. Her wide eyes looked up and she cocked her head.

I closed my eyes but decided to make sure I was being brought to the hospital and not shoved into some strange SUV. The big guy with the beard dropped me into a wheel chair at the waiting room, the woman spoke to the nurse at the desk, whispering in her high pitched voice. They both waved to me as they left and I smiled back. Maybe I'd see them again on my night journey.

The bright lights made my eyes tear, which made it difficult to dig through my purse for my insurance card and ID. Eventually I found both and the woman paged another nurse to bring me to the CT scan room.

I probably looked like a crazy woman, my flannel pants and bunny slippers covered with a baggy sweatshirt and my gray tank beneath. The Scan operator narrowed his eyes at me and I grimaced. I couldn't stand long enough to glide into the machine without feeling faint from dizziness. This only proved to irritate the technician more.

I waited for what seemed like forever, nurses woke me up periodically when I dozed off, and eventually they placed me in an empty room. Around four or five the door to my room opened and a light flipped on. I groaned and sat up, but a restraining hand on my shoulder pushed me down.

"You have a concussion," the doctor whispered.

My body stilled and I closed my eyes against the flood of light. I knew that voice, even as it whispered to me. My pale cheeks heated a bit and I exhaled shakily. One eye popped open and I looked up at Edward.

The bags under his eyes looked severe in the fluorescent lights. His skin was sickly, almost green like a pale frog. He was looking at a manila envelope with my name on the outside. I felt slightly fearful that my neighbor had my medical history in his hands.

The pen in his left hand clicked and he scrawled some notes down, flipping out another pen—a light actually—and flashed it in each of my eyes. I blinked wildly but he had his index finger up, waved it around and I followed it. I'd been here enough to know the procedure.

"Do you have someone who can pick you up?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head, the movement clipped as to not make my skull throb. He looked at me warily; mouth turned down as if grimacing was the most natural thing in the world.

"I get off in half an hour, I can take you back if you'd like." He snapped my folder closed and slipped it under his arm, looking down expectantly.

"Oh, no, you don't have to. I don't want to be a burden," I mumbled, my fingers smoothing over an eyebrow nervously.

He shook his head. "No burden. I promise." And he turned away from me.

As he left, a blonde doctor came in and placed her hand on Edward's shoulder. He stopped, faced her and she smiled at him. His grimaced slowly edged away and slipped onto my own face.

"When you're off do you want to go for breakfast?" she asked quietly. Something about the damn doctor voice had me grinding my teeth together.

"Not today, I have something to do," he answered and exited the room quickly.

The woman looked after him, her eyes drooping dreamily, and then turned to me. "That man," she sighed. "Between you and me, something about that… mystique drives me insane."

I stared at her warily. "Are you two together?" I asked rather boldly.

Her grin faltered and she sighed. "We went on a date a couple weeks ago. Well, not exactly a date. It was a fall party that the hospital held and we decided to go together. But I like to think it was a date."

_Bitch_. "That must have been nice."

She nodded, happy mood returning. She was a pretty, happy, glorious woman. Tall, blonde and confident. She looked like she didn't bake cookies and devour them, or cowardly masturbate to her neighbor's sounds of masturbation. I felt my skin pale as her thin waist, full chest and perky ass walked around the bed and fluffed my pillow.

"Do you have a ride out of here?" she asked sweetly.

I batted my eyelashes. "Yes."

Thankfully she left; her long legs making her pink scrubs look like the season's hottest fashion. I fell back into the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling and fighting tears. Some leaked into my ears, making them itch.

Not only had I embarrassed myself by getting caught, but I wasn't even close to what Edward was into. He was probably filing a complaint with Maybrook Apartments as I cried, calling me a creepy pervert who liked to listen to him while he played piano and baked him cookies with drugs inside.

While I wallowed in self-pity Edward had come, wheelchair in hand and concerned expression plastered on his face as he looked at my blotchy skin.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"You can speak normally," I snapped. "I'm not a child."

He looked apologetic. "Can you sit up?"

I breathed in shakily, throwing the blanket off my body and sliding into the chair with help from Edward. He wheeled me out, tires squeaking on the linoleum of the hospital. I saw Blondie at the front, smiling brightly at the both of us and waving.

The sun wasn't even out as Edward walked me in my bulky wheel chair. We were completely silent, blending in easily with the early morning but sparse cars and retreating crazies.

Upon arriving at the complex, the elevator was out of service. The building's maintenance workers were crammed inside the small box. Edward rolled me over to the stairs and hoisted me up, stopping when I grabbed my temples, groaning loudly.

"Sorry," he murmured.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he walked up the eight flights of stairs. He was winded by the time we reached the top, but didn't stop until he reached my door.

"I have my key," I mumbled. I dug in my purse until they jingled from my fingertips.

Once the door was open he walked in slowly, like something was going to pop out and scare him. I pointed to my room and he dropped me carefully on my bed.

"I like your slippers," he said, fingers twisting the bunny ear on my right foot.

I closed my eyes, rubbing at them with my fist. "My grandma made them." I lifted my leg, wiggling my foot around.

Edward grabbed my ankle and my eyes popped open. His eyes were purposely avoiding mine and I sat up slowly, brow furrowing in pain. He looked up, palm pressing to my temple. He released my ankle and did the same with his other palm. He rubbed soothingly and I sighed gratefully.

"I'm really sorry," I said, on the verge of tears.

"Don't be," he mumbled.

I shook my head, the movement stifled by Edward's hands. "I didn't mean to…."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "It's okay. The walls are really thin… I'm sure my piano playing drives you insane."

"I like it," I instantly argued. "It makes my day better."

He looked away again, cheeks turning pink. "I should go. Every half hour I'll bang on the wall, just hit it back to tell me you're okay."

His hands retreated and I sank back into bed, watching him walk away without a backwards glance. When he left with a gentle click of my front door I laughed a little hysterically. He didn't even stay, didn't even want to talk with me.

I thought back to the blonde doctor. Bet he liked big boobs and thin waists and—and tan skin with white teeth. I pulled my blanket over my head, glaring angrily at the sheet of darkness for a while. A thump against my wall startled me and I thumped back.

I'd just have to make him meals _and_ desert from now on.


	8. Sea Salt

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s): T**

**Notes: My dream is to sit on pink sandy beaches and read a book.**

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: Sea Salt****

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Sometimes I liked to believe that when I was lying on a beach I was in a different world. When I was a kid, sitting at First Beach with my arms outstretched like I was making snow angels, I'd pretend I was in Bermuda.

Renee always wanted her honeymoon to be in Bermuda. It was her goal in life and I think that was why she dated so many guys. Even if you didn't have a lot of money, if someone shared the same goal it could happen. It had gotten to the point where she'd eat salt nuts from the islands just to come to closer to her goal. She never got to Bermuda, though.

Funny, though. I ended up sitting in the sand—sand that was tinted pink—and my husband was next to me. It was our second honeymoon, the first not turning out as we had both planned. I didn't care, though. That first honeymoon led to this one, and would lead to many more.

We were here in her memory. Renee died a couple months back; the grief had been too much for me, mainly because Charlie had passed a year before from poor health. Edward and I stood in the back, shrouded in black like some eerie couple trying to avoid the Florida sun.

I said a final goodbye to my mother that day, just like she'd said to me decades back.

Edward and I were on our backs, looking at the sky and basking in the bright sun. It heated every fiber of being and the diamond like quality of my skin was enough to make planes waver as they flew miles above us.

"I like it here," I whispered.

Edward's fingers tightened around mine. "We can stay here. Just for a while if you'd like."

I nodded my head. "I'd like that a lot."

We sat up, both of us walking to the small beach house, eager to forget about the rest of the world.


	9. Smoke

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Creative Original or Derivative Fiction: Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s): T**

**Notes: Eclipse scene with some detail.**

**Disclaimer: All copyrighted, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: Smoke****

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It was hard to believe that with a simple lick of fire skin could be burned, maimed, seared and cooked to a painstakingly awful color and texture.

Fire is an amazing thing. Its color varies from white to black and every spectrum of color can be construed within its flames. The white of flesh melted before my eyes, cooking with a sizzling pop and then a short shriek as air molecules escaped from the tortured meat.

The fire soaked up red hair like gasoline and a cloth. Her accusatory red eyes glared up at me, gleaming in hate, promising me hell if I ever made it to the afterlife. I didn't believe there would be an afterlife with those I hated in it. That's not what life after this sanctimonious hell should be.

There were others around, probably wondering why I was so fascinated in the destruction of someone I'd already tore apart, limb from slimy limb. I truly did believe that this woman was Devil incarnate. She had the shrieking laugh, deathly gaze, hard skin that was only truly satisfied if someone else's blood was smeared over it. When she attacked me she wore human blood like red lipstick, trying to give me the kiss of death.

I wondered how Bella would have felt, seeing my severed head with bloody lip prints on it.

The smoke began almost immediately after the first pop and whiz of the flesh. I took in a deep breath. It wasn't often that I got to riotously murder. Growing up I was taught to only strike revenge if someone wronged you in the worst sense, death was their main angle, but I saw it as fair game.

I watched the plumes of smoke rise toward the heavens. I wanted to watch Victoria's soul fall from the smoke and crash into the ground. She'd see the molten earth soon enough.

Vaguely I heard someone come up beside me, latch onto my hand and talk. It was a surreal experience, because in that moment I felt my hatred go up along with that smoke, leaving only hope for the future.


	10. Lackadaisical February WitFit

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction): Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): M/ I'm adding this onto my December WitFit which got cut off for personal reasons. I will be participating for the February WitFit prompts.  
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Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: Lackadaisical **

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It had been a stupid notion. To even think of _practicing_ with a piece of glass was my first mistake; the second was losing my senses. It was like jumping off a cliff with a pack full of china strapped to your thigh. Even if you managed to somehow land on your feet the initial impact would break everything.

Only a few weeks away from a glamorous wedding that nearly every civilian knew of, we grew restless. Innocent bedtime kisses turned into something else entirely. Hands would move flirtatiously above clothing and sometimes slip under elastic bands. We would roll around in bed, one on top of the other until the edge could not be ignored. It was the first time I'd ever fallen from a bed.

They were long winter nights and short winter days. We went to bed at eight in order to prolong the moments in our pre-marital bed. Sometimes we'd leave at noon, barricading the door from my family and shutting the drapery to keep the illusion of night inside.

The week before our wedding held sexual tension. Of course, that had been my goal. I wanted her so worked up that by the time our wedding night arrived she'd be able to fall off whatever precipice her body held onto.

It was so damn simple. Feel her lush skin, feel her body against mine, fool around and fall asleep.

She'd been on top of me when it happened. I held her hips, adoring the delicate view atop my groin. My eyes slipped closed for a few moments and in that time she'd… grabbed me.

I was startled; her hand was warm and soft, dampened by perspiration. She touched all over, noises slipping from her throat while mine covered hers. I was lost in bliss, dreaming of our fornication right before my eyes.

A sickening snap forced my eyes open.

She was still, her hand falling away and loosely clasping her abdomen. Her eyes opened wide, pupils staring past my face and mouth gaping wide. Breath left her throat in rapid breaths and then a scream gurgled up.

"Bella?" I panicked.

My eyes darted down to where her waist bent in an unnatural way. And I saw it. Her hips jutted out from her skin, contorted and begging through her delicate skin.

The beginning of a scream started as I ran my fastest from her room, screaming for my family who had left to hunt. Bella cried at her new placement on the downstairs couch, her body breaking to comfort the internal damage I'd caused.

I heard Alice, ahead of the others, screaming that she'd seen, showing me nothing of the future. In the blink on an eye they were all there, panicking and medicating, while only fifty four seconds beforehand I'd had my first orgasm.


	11. Pendulum

**Penname: Rosette-Cullen**

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction): Twilight**

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): T/ Alerts weren't working yesterday and therefore wouldn't let anyone update. This is for February second, today's will come later on.  
**

**Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**

**Prompt: Pendulum **

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The ticking of my great grandfather's clock counted down the minutes to dawn. The noises were like the inner workings of my brain; winding and grinding until eventually they started where they'd begun.

"I hate Florida," Bella sighed.

I smiled. "And you love Forks?"

"I love _you_ and seeing as how you're in Forks I love it, too." She shuffled in bed and sighed. "I don't _really_ hate Florida. The beach has been great and the constant sun even better. I got a really nice tan, too. I was kind of upset that my mom made me wear a two piece, but now that I look at it… you'll have to see when I get back."

The clock stuttered a beat and picked up once more. For three beats we were silent, only the quiet sounds of breath escaping over the receiver.

"I realize this is redundant for you," I murmured.

"I don't mind," she whispered.

My family shuffled downstairs, Alice hushed them. They gathered around the flat screen in the family room and watched in rapt fascination. It was difficult to understand why we'd be excited about this after so many years, but it was an important milestone.

I counted along with the clock, "Three… two… one."

"Happy New Year, Edward," she yawned.

"Happy New Year, Bella." I waited for the fifth tick of the clock. "I love you."

Her sheets rustled and a tired sigh hit the receiver. "Love you, too."

With the beep of my phone and the quiet sounds of footsteps running up the stairs, I finally understood why the excitement lasted.


End file.
